"My experience with this book may not mirror yours, but one thing’s for sure, I was gripped by my lapels and dragged along for the ride—or rides. I can honestly say I will never, ever forget this book. Never. Do I recommend it? Good Lord, yes. Yes, yes, yes!"
London life is hard going for Annie and Tim, and despite being in love, they’re just not hitting the spot in the bedroom.
So, in an attempt to put the steam back into their relationship, Tim whisks Annie to the Cotswolds to visit Matt and Jane his uber-cool, sexually liberal friends from University.
As the temperature heats to melting point in the chocolate box cottage so does the sex, and Annie, with the help of her hosts, discovers a variety of hidden carnal desires, not just in herself but also Tim.
Who would have thought he’d be into that? Who would have thought ‘that’ would have her buzzing from head to toe?
Reader Advisory: This book contains Ménage scenes and both M/M and F/F intimacy.
Two hours later, at the end of a pot-holed lane, we found ‘Buttercup Cottage’ buried beside a small copse.
It had a dense, dusty thatch which lifted like drooping eyebrows over four open upstairs windows and a matching thatched porch which sheltered a red stable door. Bay windows on either side showcased enormous bunches of wild flowers on the inside and, on the outside, held wonky window boxes which tickled the ground with ivy and hit halfway up the panes with overgrown geraniums.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, instantly captured in a bubble of excitement. “It’s like something from a movie set, or a postcard, or...or a dream.”
Tim shoved at the rickety wooden gate and I rolled my cerise suitcase onto the cobbled pathway. “Yeah, Matt fell right on his feet with this place when property prices slumped a few years ago.”
I murmured an agreement and pulled in a deep breath; it was like being at a Harrods perfume counter, only so much better. The heat from the midday sun had warmed all the floral scents and they slipped up my nose and over my tongue like syrup. Jasmine, lavender, rosehip, lilac—it was a cacophony of delight for my smog-ridden senses.
I was just about to comment on this delight when the front door burst in on itself. Out of the shadows stepped a tall, tanned guy, early thirties, dressed in a pair of aquamarine swim shorts and leather flip flops. He had wide, defined shoulders, a mop of dark blond hair, which looked damp, and the smoothest, broadest chest I’d ever seen, so perfectly silky it must have been freshly shaved and expensively moisturised.
“Matt,” Tim called as he dodged round me.
Matt’s face crinkled into a grin. He took two ground-eating paces up the path, flung his arms around Tim’s shoulders and slapped him heartily on the back. “How you doing, old mate?”
“Great to see you,” Tim said, giving his friend an equally forceful slap. “Thanks so much for inviting us.”
“No, no, thank you for coming. We get so bored here on our own weekend after weekend. It’ll be great to have some new blood in the place.” Matt snapped back from Tim and turned his attention to me. “And this must be the delectable Annie.” He stepped up and cupped my face in his big hands, his voice dropped low. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Hi,” I said, looking into eyes so blue they could have been chipped from an ancient glacier. “Nice to meet you, Matt.” I swallowed.
“The pleasure is all mine.” He bent his head and kissed me full on the mouth. Not a quick peck and not a deep, tongued affair. But a heavy, passion-infused kiss that covered my lips and continued for several long seconds.
I stood there dumb, in shock, arms hanging at my sides. Matt had so over stepped the mark of a polite greeting. Was I complaining? Hell no, the guy was cute, and like his garden, he smelt divine, sun cream mixed with a tangy fresh male scent. But as he pulled away, it flashed through my mind that my longed-for weekend away could have already finished. If Tim took offence to Matt’s overfriendly greeting, I would be scrambled back into the car and sped up the motorway before I’d seen a single buttercup.
I glanced nervously at Tim. But he just grinned and pushed a hand through his dark curls. He could occasionally get jealous. In the year we’d been together, there’d been several instances when other men had chatted to me in bars and clubs and he’d warned them off with threats of violence, so this reaction knocked me off kilter. He seemed to almost approve of his old friend cradling my head in his hands, kissing me and gazing into my eyes.
I looked back up at Matt’s handsome face. He licked his lips, seemingly savouring the fruity flavour of my lip gloss. “Mmm,” he said. “Delicious, Jane is going to love you.”
Have a wonderful Sunday.